Just One More
by Lover of Angelus
Summary: It freaked you out, this thought of leaving, of walking out of those dangerous tsunami waters of the Hunt and into the calm inground pool of Society. WINCEST.


III **Just One More**

II

I** Disclaimer**: Me no own, You no sue.

II

III** WARNINGS:** LANGAUGE &** _INCESTOUS_ _SLASH_**

* * *

When there is nothing left to change, nothing left to defeat, and no guns to reload, what are you supposed to do? What are you supposed to do when the father that you would have died protecting has just been buried and that younger brother that you're fucking is so close to meeting the same fate? 

When there is nothing left to change, nothing left to piece together, and no wounds to stitch up, is it possible for you to walk away from this life – this world that has been yours since you were four and carried your aforementioned younger brother from a burning building? Can you really leave all this and enter into a new world, the new world that your brother loves and knows so well? Can you really leave Hunting behind and enter into Society? That same Society that you have been raised to avoid like the plague, that same Society that you have been told knows nothing, that same Society that refuses to acknowledge what goes on at night?

When there is nothing left to change, nothing left to kill, no cross-country maps that need to be re-checked, can you really abandon everything, everything that you're familiar with all for the sake of that little brother that you're fucking?

* * *

Sam looks at you. His moss green eyes are pleading as he waits for your answer. He popped the question the other day and you said, as you ran your hand through your hair, "I don't know, Sammy, let me think about it?" It freaked you out, this thought of leaving, of walking out of those dangerous tsunami waters of the Hunt and into the calm in-ground pool of College. 

Sam is still looking at you, just the way you wished he wouldn't. Because he's still waiting for your answer and though you have the answer, you really don't want to give it to him.

"I'm sorry, Sam," your voice cracks and breaks in a way that you absolutely hate yourself for. "I can't go back with you. I can't. This is my life and this is all I am. The Hunt. It's all I have and it's all I can be, a Hunter. I'm not like you, Sammy," you hang your head as you try to avoid the disappoint in his eyes that you know is there. "I can't just go somewhere and pretend to be something that I'm not. I mean, yeah, we do it all the time, but then we're out of there in two weeks and no one gets hurt," then you stop because Sam is on his knees with his hands on the sides of your face and he's laughing at you and you feel your chest tighten at the sound.

"It's okay, Dean," he says and places a soft kiss on your lips and for some reason you have a feeling that something great is about to happen. "Dean, it's okay."

Then it all comes crashing to halt because you know that he's still gonna leave and you'll still be alone without Dad. You'll just travel around by yourself, get shit-faced, and fuck any hottie that comes along and spreads their legs.

You push Sam away and feel the anger rising in your throat. "It's not okay!" you shout and hate the look in his eyes, as if he's just been sucker-punched. "You're still gonna leave, Sam! I'm still gonna be alone!" And you stalk off towards the door, intent on getting out of that room before you hurt Sam.

"Dean," there's a whisper in your ear and Sam's hot breath on your neck as his arms snake around your waist. You try to wiggle free but his grip is too strong; which is surprising because he's never been stronger than you. "I'm not going anywhere, Dean. I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

He hates to admit it; hates to admit any sort of weakness, but the coldness on his tongue just melts his heart away and Dean realizes that it really was a good idea to make the stop at the ice cream place. You smile over your mint chocolate chip ice cream cone toward Sam, you seem him tentatively licking at his own Rocky Road, and you just want to grab that tongue between your teeth. You've been together for over five years now, Sam has completely left behind all dreams of normality and you sometimes feel guilty but then he glances over at you and reassures you with a gentle smile and a brush of his shoulder against yours. 

You finish your ice cream and split, a "grizzly bear" up in Minnesota has been begging for some attention and you want nothing more than to put this totally kick-ass lighter your found in a gas station to good use.

* * *

The miles fly behind you as you and your brother travel those back roads, but you know that there are many more miles that need to be overtaken because there will never be an end. But you'd rather not think about it right now. Because so long as Sam is with you, you know that you have nothing to worry about. Your brother is your brother, and though you mean more to each other than is strictly legal, you have him here by your side and not at Sanford. And truth be told, you have no idea how you would have been able to handle it if he had left again and a part of you whispers, _You would not have survived_. And you know that's true.

* * *

When there is nothing left to change, nothing left to defeat, and no guns to reload, what are you supposed to do? When there is nothing left to change, nothing left to piece together, and no wounds to stitch up, how long do you suppose you'll have to wait until something does come up? When there is nothing left to change, nothing left to kill, no cross-country maps that need to be re-checked, what will be your first thought when you wake up in the morning with your younger brother in your arms and only memories of how the two of you used to criss-cross the country, traveling dusty roads in a black '67 Chevy Impala? When there is nothing left to change, nothing left to be researched, and no ammunition needed to be bought, how will you be able to grasp the fact that you and your brother have gotten too old to be shooting and hunting demons? Did you even think you would live this long? Did you ever think you would survive this gig?

But you insist onkeep saying, "Just one more, Sammy, just one more."

* * *

III 

II

I

II

III


End file.
